A Better Resurrection
by Her sister's keeper
Summary: "My heart within me like a stone/Is numbed too much for hopes and fears..." Emily thinks back on her decision to leave Wammy's, remembering the things she learned, the emotions that plagued her... The young love that began there. I own only Emily.
1. Goodbye memories

"Hrm..."

So uttered the small girl who stood, looking out her dingy apartment's window, the only thing she could afford in Los Angeles at this point, as she contemplated her new surroundings. This new, and yet familiar, place was so much different from whence she just "escaped" as she put it. The backstreets of L.A., with its crime rate and poverty, would always pale when compared to the English school/orphanage she had left only a week before this moment. Her slim dark brows furrowed above her troubled blue eyes, smoothing out her scarlet streaked raven tresses thoughtfully, as she recalled her current status. Alone, an orphan, pretty faced but indifferent to it, insecure, sarcastic, hot-tempered, ego hating, no nonsense, bereaved several times over, and thirteen years of age. Yes, that seemed about right to her.

Emily Sharpe, or, depending on the time era certain people knew her from, Nameless, Lily, Death, or Emma Lily, tilted her head back and closed her eyes, sighing as the warm air drifted in a breeze through the window. Her eyes snapped open as the feeling brought back memories- but the warm air had come from someone's breath on her face. Blue eyes glinting with cockiness, a smirking mouth, perfection in her own personal definition... her object of idolatry. Images of him floated into her mind, making her wince and shudder, prompting her to close the window, hoping that would stunt the growing thoughts that she believed to be the occupation of an idle mind. Instead, it caused the thoughts to flourish, making her want to scream in anger, in annoyance... in need. In desperation. In longing and desire. In heartache and hurt, in loneliness and... Dare she say it, to admit it? In sadness?

She tugged at her hair, gritting her teeth, trying to think clearly, trying to resist the urge to rush for her mobile phone, call him, to beg him to find her and bring her back safe, to be his once more. Her eyes fell instead on a book of poetry. A gift from him_._ She could still remember the conversation that provoked him getting her the gift.

_"What the hell are you reading now, Emma?" She looked up at the speaker, unamused as he went on, his simper wide, "I guess you read everything in the library by now?"_

_She sighed, pushing back a wayward curl, smirking at how his hands froze in midair as he had been about to accomplish the same task. "No. This is from the library. See, genius?" She asked, showing the laminated spine of the collected Sylvia Plath poetry to him as she scooted into the corridor's window seat's corner, resting her chin on her tight-covered legs, rolling her eyes as she saw his satisfied smirk. He seated himself, leaning close to her, hand on her waist, drawing her closer, resting his forehead on hers, and holding her face so she couldn't turn away. _

_"God, Mello." Emily, a.k.a Emma, scoffed slightly when she saw the intention in his eyes. Her disgusted facade was barely convincing as a blush tinged her cheeks and she smiled at him softly, waiting for him to make his move. He smirked as he did, capturing her mouth with his, simpering at how her lips had been already parted with expectation. They remained that way for a few seconds, savoring the feel, savoring the moment as it was one of those stolen moments, one of those times that weren't meant to be shared but were being anyways._

_"Mello..." He sighed as she whispered his name, pulling away and looking at her, slightly annoyed before he saw the look in her eyes. His gaze softened and he pulled her closer, transitioning her so that he was pressed against the wall of the window seat and she was sitting on his lap, as if facing the same direction she was would help him see the world through her eyes. "What is it?" "... " Emma didn't respond as she traced the glass pane thoughtfully. "You made me forget." He chuckled, glancing at her book quickly again before his smirk grew wider. "Then I guess I'll have to give you something to make you remember..." She didn't know that a week later, on the trip into town, he'd buy her the complete collection of Plath poems for her..._

It was that very book she now curled her fingers around before flinging it savagely at the wall, screaming in anguish, as if her actions would delete all the memories the book held. Instead, they brought them back, as many loose pages came flying from the book as it hit the wall. "Huh?" Emily heard herself say that as she lowered her hands from her hair, the place they had travelled to when she had screamed, her own way of muffling her pain to herself. She picked her way through the maze of boxes of her apartment, the reminder to unpack and get comfortable poking at her as she wandered over to where the paper storm had happened. Picking up the first page she saw, she realized that it was a folio from her diary that she kept at Wammy's, tucked into the poetry, so she could've carried it from class to class- therefore, her secrets would always be hers. Her stiff lips began to form the words before she knew that she was reading aloud to herself, letting the reminiscences of a world now too late to return to sweep her back into those hallways, back into those classrooms, that courtyard and her dorm room as she did, feeling that she had to; that if she didn't, she would suffer a sleepless night, she wouldn't be able to move on, to clumsily stitch up the bursting seam of her heart.

"August 30, 2002. Dear Diary… I met someone today."


	2. A better resurrection

_**A Better Resurrection**_

I have no wit, I have no words, no tears;

My heart within me like a stone

Is numbed too much for hopes or fears;

Look right, look left, I dwell alone;

A lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief

No everlasting hills I see;

My life is like the falling leaf;

O Jesus, quicken me.

-Sylvia Plath

_August 30, 2002._

_Dear Diary… I met someone today. Yeah, that's right, I wrote that. I __met__ someone today. Me, of all people! I mean, sure, what else am I suppose to expect since moving into Wammy House dorms? But I'm not talking about some girly-girl who I'm so psyched to have paint my nails. (Sorry for that terrible attempt at being a teenage girl…Apparently, there are ninnies out there that talk like that… I hope I don't. I never listened to myself long enough to figure out if I do or don't…. Anyways…) No. I met a guy. He…. He's beautiful. Pathetic way to describe a member of the opposite sex, I know, but honestly? He's beautiful. To me, anyways. Moreover, as this is __my __journal, I can write whatever. But, oh God, Diary, he was a living version of Apollo, of some Greek god. How else can one explain him? He has blond hair that, sure, falls to the base of his neck, a total bowl-cut, but he can pull it off. He's muscular and slim- as evidenced in gym class from what I saw through that thin cloth of his jersey- __**yes**__, I looked at him in gym class, when us girls have to wear tank tops and shorts that should be illegal…. It's a good thing I had that makeup, otherwise my cuts would've showed… and Heaven Forbid! I become the outcast again… But anyways… my favorite part of him is his eyes. They're so blue… but so conflicted- you can practically see thoughts coming to light, see emotions swirling when you look him in the eyes… Not that I tried. I was stupid enough to try to look at him when he talked to me today… yes, he talked to me! I swear, when I first looked in his eyes, it had the effect of Medusa's gaze- it froze me like stone in place… It was that captivating. He'll never know though… I still can't bring myself to talking that much. Besides… I'll only be here for a short time, right? I'll only content myself to thinking him attractive- he can't have noticed me, could he have? Oh, I really do sound like a teenage girl! I need to go cure that… where's my Tolstoy?_

_ Sincerely,_

_ Emma Lily (My new alter ego.)_

Adorable, cute, beautiful- what other adjectives had he heard about the new girl? Mello paused for a moment from his work, thinking deeply. He couldn't remember- all he knew was that she was suppose to be a looker. What did he know though? He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the realization that he almost lost sight of his current task- finishing his history essay. He grunted, chiding himself for falling asleep before he had finished, his gaze not shifting as he continued to scrawl the facts on his notebook's page, paying no attention as his classmates' chatter rose and then fell into a hush, not aware that the door of the schoolroom had been opened to admit the new student, who now stood over him shyly. "Hem…" The girl coughed softly several times, looking surprised at Mello as his head snapped up in shock. Where had he heard that voice before? He recalled a sound like that from his childhood, remembered someone coughing to where it scared him every time he heard that sound coming from her… He gazed up at the new girl, and he had to keep his gasp of surprise trapped in his throat. Black curls that framed her face as side swept bangs hid her bright blue eyes, pale skin that reminded him of snow and an altogether innocent naivety that he knew so well, even though he hadn't seen her in so long… "Lily?" He asked, causing the girl to take a step back, confused. "No…. Emma Lily…" She corrected him, causing his heart to sink before it rose to his throat again. He was so sure that it was her, his childhood love, the only girl he had wanted to protect other than his mother, he was so sure…. It just had to be her. But…

Her health was too well to be his Lily- she wasn't coughing, wasn't having fits that left her struggling for breath, for life… No. It couldn't be her. He frowned, an action that the new girl noticed and became flustered about. "My seat… Can I, ah, get to it please?" She whispered timidly, trying to speak as seldom as she could, smoothing out her white ruffled sundress, the one that Naomi Misora had helped her pick up before leaving for England. Of course, she had insisted on a leather jacket like Miss Misora's she now wore over the dress, a request the young lady granted for the preteen, remembering her scars, the chapters of her story, the one thing she was truly ashamed of when it came to her life. She bit her lip, looking at her feet and blushing as the boy grunted before scotching his seat in to allow her a path to her seat. As she slipped through, she tripped, biting her lip to keep herself from making an embarrassing noise as her cheeks colored, nonetheless. "Humph." Mello muttered, turning back to his work, deciding to keep an eye on this new girl- for no particular reason…but out of curiosity.

Emily glanced at the boy, her cheeks still red, but that was only a reflex- her pain of losing Beyond was still in effect; to everything except her grief, she was indifferent. And yet…. This boy aroused an emotion, which was shocking. He had aroused fear…and nostalgia. When had her name been Lily? She closed her eyes and tried to remember…but soon opened them, for she saw it was only in vain. It didn't matter- he obviously hadn't heard her name right. Still… her emotions were tumbling together, creating a new emotion, a bittersweet one at taste, one that she knew, but had never felt before like this. 'I need to be quiet, not be nice- I need to have a heart on ice.' Emily whispered to herself, reminding her heart that it had to be heard, impermeable. But… she knew she was lying to herself. "Who is he?" She whispered to herself, glancing at the boy, knowing somehow that their paths were intertwined.


	3. Fatal plunge

_Like a diver on a lofty spar of land_

_Atop the flight of stairs I stand._

_A whirlpool leers at me,_

_I cast off my identity_

_And make the fatal plunge._

_-Sylvia Plath, "Family Reunion"._

Emily made no comment to any of her classmates who stared at her in awe as she trekked down the crowded hall, book tucked beneath her arm, absolutely no expression on her face. _Why are they staring? Never saw a girl before? Damn, some people need to get their noses out of their exams._ She mused, coughing a few times, smelling a strong scent, something that would've smelled delicious usually, had it been applied correctly. _If they have noses anyways... _She thought, realizing that the cause of the bitter aroma sticking to the back of her throat was cologne that had been doused by the bottle full in the hallway. Emily coughed again, harder this time, scaring her for a moment as she checked her hand in earnest, hoping she wouldn't see the ruby red droplets from her childhood. Relieved as she discovered her hand free of anything resembling blood, she turned, only to run smack dab into the back belonging to the cause of her coughing- a boy named Tybalt.

Tybalt was Wammy's resident playboy, from his flirting skills and charming good looks that left girls of all ages swooning, to his arrogant temper and elitist behavior that came without merit. True, he was smart- but to those who cared to look deeper than the surface, or had a long-term goal, he was an ignorant, opinionated ass, who spent too much time chasing girls and goofing off. Indeed, Tybalt was the popular guy that his male classmates loved to hate and his female admirers hated to love. For Tybalt, there was no in between- he either failed the test or aced it; he either had the support of the student body or they were against him; he either was in love or he hated someone. Unfortunately, Emily was now the target of this decisive, get-what-I-want-when-I-want-it flirter's affections.

Tybalt had opened his mouth to start yelling at the person who had dared to run into him and made him nearly fall. But the cuss words and complaints died in his throat as he saw that it was only a black-haired girl who had so rudely plowed into him as she now stooped to pick up her book. He was almost disappointed when he saw that it wasn't his chief rival- he'd been looking for a reason to start a fight. But all disappointment faded as the girl looked up, her azure eyes apologetic, her cheeks a brilliant red compared to her face-the disappointment became attraction, and infatuation. He smiled as sweetly as he could, his face becoming angelic as he brushed back his brown hair that he wore Leonardo DiCaprio styled, hoping to catch the new "love-of-his-life's" eye. Instead all he got was indifference."Oh... excuse me." Emily mumbled, sighing and trying to push past, not even glancing Tybalt's way.

He gaped in surprise at her reaction, so different from all the other girls he wooed, recovering himself swiftly as he followed her, saying, "No, excuse me! I should look before I walk... I just may have trampled the most beautiful flower in the valley. I just hope I can pick it without wilting it due to my caresses."

"I'm poison ivy, imbecile. You may want to be more worried about getting a rash." The girl shot back, causing Tybalt to stumble back in pleasant surprise. A comeback- an original comeback besides the usual "You use that on every girl, don't you?" He smirked, his hazel eyes lighting up with a look one sees in the eyes of an experienced predator. He was falling hard for this girl- he loved challenges, and this girl was just that.

"Does your love hurt that bad? Why will your love hurt me so?" He quipped, taking the steps of the staircase the raven-haired girl now ascended two at a time, trying to keep up.

"Yes- but that's not my love- that would be my foot up your butt any second now if you keep following me." Her blue eyes glared at him, something he wasn't accustomed to from the ladies. He looked at her shocked, his ears turning red, as they usually did when he began to get angry. Growling, he muttered, "What's got your tail in a twist?"

"My "tail" is in a twist 'cuz I have a complete imbecile following me! Leave me alone! I have no time for pretty boys who think they're damn perfect! I hate bastards like that! Go!" Emily nearly screeched, but she refrained from doing so, scared of what would happen to her throat if she did, remembering how much pain she used to be in. She watched as the boy's eyes narrowed into angry little slits at her words. He scowled and made a grab at her, but she dodged and punched him squarely in the chest, making him fall back and down the short flight of stairs, slamming into the wall at the bottom. She watched as his face paled and his lips opened, gaping like a fish before he started screaming from a sprained wrist.

"Wuss..." She muttered, glaring with dead eyes at him as his screams brought unwanted attention to them in the form of Linda, the residential kiss-up and several teachers, who figured out what had essentially went down from Tybalt's and Emily's positions and emotions. In little over than five seconds, Emily was being dragged down to Roger's office, kicking and screaming like a child- immature, she knew, but if she hadn't seen Tybbie smirk at her as Linda helped him up, she wouldn't have socked him in the face... which was already immature. Might as well make her first day here memorable by acting half her age.

"It's not fair! Listen! God dammit...! LISTEN! LISTEN, YOU BASTARDS! HE STARTED IT!"Emily yelled, not caring how her throat hurt- she hadn't yelled like this since the time she lost Beyond... Thinking of him, she knew that she couldn't give up without a fight- and because of that, she bit one of the two teachers dragging her to discipline. "Agh!" The teacher winced and bit back a swear, glancing at his colleague, nodding in agreement as they frog-marched the kicking twelve year old to Roger's deserted office. "We'll keep her there for now. I'll find Roger- you call her guardian. Miss Misora, I believe?" They didn't notice Emily's face pale a bit and then the return of its color, as well as her temper as they shut the door, locking it, leaving her more wrathful than she had ever imagined.

Mello had first glanced away from the spot on the wall his eyes had been boring into for the past ten minutes when he heard angry screams. He shrugged it off, figuring it was only one of the younger students not getting their way, but as they increased in volume and power, he realized that his assumption was wrong. His mistake was confirmed as the door to the room he had been shut up in for the past twenty minutes opened to admit a new "inmate". He cocked a brow as he saw that it was Emma Lily, and the raised eyebrow nearly traveled to his hair when he saw how angry she was. However, he said nothing, satisfied to watch her finish her hissy fit- for what else could it be but a hissy fit?

She proved him wrong as she pounded at the door that had been locked behind her, screaming, "It's not all my fault! He started it, God dammit! That bastard started it!" Mello frowned at the use of God's name, but he had to admit, he used the term frequently, despite being born a catholic. Her fists suddenly, but slowly, flattened against the door, sliding so that they were adjacent to her chest, soon hugging herself protectively as she sank to her knees, angrily sobbing. "He started it!"

Mello stared at her before clearing his throat. Emma's head snapped up, and she wiped the tears away when she realized she wasn't as alone as she thought.

"What's making you so angry?"

A simple question that was met with another.

"Huh? Who are you?" She now pressed her back to the door glaring. "Whatever. Please take your preaching and shove it up your ass- I'm in no mood for some idiot spouting off-"

"I'm not going to preach." _At least she said please..._Mello held back a chuckle at how contradicting her manners and words were. "Just tell me what's bothering you..." He had taken a step towards her now, disobeying Roger's command to stay seated until he got back.

"You don't need to know, dammitall!"

"I'm curious." He stared at her challenging her not to tell him. She pursued her lips angrily as she glared before opening her mouth and declaring:

"It's everything, you pompous stiff! God, you all are so annoying! It's everything, ok? EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE IS FREAK'N PISSING ME OFF! Them! And him! And them! And you! Everything and everyone! I HATE YOUR GODDAMN GUTS! You just... You all treat people like garbage. Like you all are special cuz you get fabulous grades, because you all are so talented, so beautiful... even when you're not! You're all just as bad and as ordinary as me, damn pricks! QUIT TRYING TO ACT LIKE YOUU'RE ALL FRIGGIN' PERFECT!" She now slammed her fists on the floor over and over again. "Leave me alone! Leave me out of your perfectionist crap! I wish you all would... die. Disappear. Get out of my life. I'd be better off if you were gone- dead! Die! Go to hell! Prove that you can do more than try to seduce some girl with cheesy pick-up lines! DIE- AND NEVER BOTHER ME AGAIN!"

Mello stared at her, amazed beyond compare as he listened to her words, wondering when he had shared his feelings with this girl. When had his emotions and reactions transferred to her? If she WAS his Lily, she wouldn't have been like this- it would've been him. He would've been screaming and yelling about how everyone else needed to be knocked down a peg- needed to let him shine for once. Yet... it was as if she WAS his Lily- she had just finally emerged from her cocoon, triumphant and bold, wise and serious. This girl and his Lily were one and the same- they just had to be...

It was because of this did he answer:

"Really? I think you WANT them to care. You want them to look at you, don't you? All those people... To see you as an equal. You want them to need you. You want them... to listen to you. To understand you, somehow, even though that's impossible. You want to be accepted. I think... you want them to love you... or at least for someone to love you." he paused, taking a deep breath as he noticed how frigid she had gotten as she stared at the floor biting her lip. "You know what? I want that too."

_I want that desperately. I mean, who doesn't? It's a human desire, something implanted in you since birth... If you don't get it, or get enough of it, then you have this void, this irreplaceable gap in your heart. You just feel jipped and cheated, hated and ignored... And you're forever trying to find your place, find where you belong and where you can get what you so desperately need._

Mello watched as her eyes focused in on a spot on the floor before curling up in a ball, her forehead touching the floor, almost in prostrate. He stared and listened to her mumbling as reality and the consequences of her actions came crashing down around her.

"Wh-why? Why did I... turn out... like this? When... did this happen to me?" Emily closed her eyes and remembered what Naomi Misora had asked her at the store while they were buying Emily clothes, had asked as she stared at all of the inflictions she had attained. _Why did you turn out like this?_

"You're asking me? That's... what I want to know... I don't know why I did...Why don't I know it? Why? Why...did...I?"She felt tears rushing down her face, could taste them, the sweetly bitter saltiness of defeat, of denial...of could hear her sobs, wild and gasping, could feel her body shake as she heaved out another sob...but all she could doo was think. She couldn't stop the womanly instinct, the female emotion as she thought, over and over: _Where did I go wrong? Where's my mistake? Why did I make a mistake in the first place? They'll never like me now... I...I-I-I..._"I'm so miserable. I'm... I-I'm so lonely... I feel so ALONE!" She lifted her head and wailed dejectedly, feeling relief pour into her as she felt all the emotions she kept penned up inside being released. She felt no shame as she collapsed onto the boy who kneeled in front of her, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder as she had done with countless people before: Her parents, her brother, the woman at the orphanage, her childhood sweetheart, Beyond, Miss Misora... Now him. She continued to cry even as she felt the boy stroke her hair, his face being one of surprise and pity, whispering the words she was thinking and maybe crying too, his voice sounding thick with tears as well.

_It was all I wanted. To love people... and be loved. I want to be happy.\_ The two children repeated the words repeatedly, feeling right in each other's arms, feeling as if the moment was suppose to happen, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They felt solace- they were content. Content... and understood. it didn't matter that Tybalt and Roger would find them like this when they entered the room a few minutes later; didn't matter that Miss Misora would have to tell Beyond about Emily's behavior; didn't matter that Mello would get detention for a week- nothing mattered. They were willing to pay whatever price to feel this new emotion they had discovered in that moment. They had found their identity- one that needn't be casted off when they dove into the masses of classmates. They had found their natural comfort... and there was no way to change that fact now.


	4. Mad Girl's love song

_I fancied you'd return the way you said,_

_But I grow old and I forget your name._

_(I think I made you up inside my head.)_

_I should've loved a thunderbird instead;_

_At least when spring comes they roar back again._

_I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead._

_(I think I made you up inside my head.)_

_-Sylvia Plath, "Mad Girl's Love Song."_

_"... _Hey Emma."

Mello glanced at Emma, transferring the object of his sight onto her instead of the chalkboard he was wiping clean. He was surprised to see that she was actually besides him, piece of chalk in hand, squinting in concentration. "What are you doing? I just wiped that clean!" Mello protested before Emma quieted him by putting a finger to his lip. "You erased the reminder for the class trip. I'm just writing it back up there." She muttered as she stretched onto her tiptoes, writing the words informing the class about the trip into town at the end of the week, a treat that both of these adolescents would miss due to their punishment of detention, which they were serving now. Their fellow inmate was supposed to be present as well but as their supervisor was a female, he managed to flatter his way into a simpler task- at least, he was under that impression.

Tybalt should've known why both Mello and Emma chose classroom duty instead of being junior custodian- which meant cleaning the bathrooms and scraping gum off the sidewalk outside.

Mello handed the eraser to Emma when he was done, watching her as she took it and proceeded to the window, producing a dust cloud as she mercilessly beat it against the windowsill, a curious thing really, until Mello heard a protest rise from below the window in the form of Tybalt's voice. In a flash, Mello was at the window, pushing Emma away from the scene of the crime, much to her displeasure. "Hey! What's the big idea...?"

"MELLO!"

Mello smirked as he looked over the window's ledge, saluting Tybalt and slamming the window shut, muffling Tybalt's screamed cuss words, turning to Emma reproachfully. "Are you just trying to get yourself hurt?"

"What do you mean?"\

"Just because you happened to catch Tybbie's eye and have him temporarily wrapped around your finger, it doesn't mean you're an exception from his mean streak. Had he seen you in your little stunt a few seconds ago, who knows what the heck he'd do."

"Whatever. He's an idiot anyways. I'll tell him myself that I did it- nothing will happen. Watch." As if to prove herself right, she took a step towards the door, gasping in surprise as she watched Mello sprint towards her and pin her to the wall behind her, his hands wrapping around her wrists, holding them above her head, his eyes pleading with her as he whispered, "Don't you get it? Don't you get it?If you do that, he'll hurt you...and I can't do anything to stop it! I can't! God dammed, Lily, don't you get it?"

The breath caught in Mello's throat as he realized what he had just called her. He looked at Emma and saw that the realization had dawned on her as well, her expression mirroring his perfectly.

"I'm not your Lily."

The words came out of her mouth with a calculated frigidness that made Mello regain his breath in a gasp. She glared at him as she continued.

"I never was; never will be. Don't you get THAT? You ask me if I get what your warning is, but do you get that '.? Honestly? I hate you." She couldn't believe what she was saying as her words flew forth from her mouth like glass shards after an explosion. Tears were welling up in her eyes as her head brought back a face; it was this precious boy's face, the darling boy who stood before her now.

But what was different?

He was so much younger in her memory.

But the look on his face was the very same.

Rejected.

Isolated.

Imagined?

Emma shook herself out of this flashback, wondering if she was trying to guilt trip herself. He didn't really exist back then, right?

God, she couldn't remember that child's name if he had. Was it really just a faded memory, or just her imaginary friend? Beyond HAD told her that she'd have someone waiting for her, someone who promised to wait.

But what if Beyond was just trying to comfort her?

What if he had lied for her sake?

What if...?

It didn't matter to her. She simply pushed Mello away, stepping away far enough to where he couldn't touch her. Couldn't stop her if she ran.

"You mean nothing to me! Why can't you feel the same about me? Geez! Leave me alone, ok?" She screamed at him, turning on her heel as she ran out of the classroom, leaving the blond locked, blue eyed boy whom she called a mythical god privately behind. She was crying, knowing-or at least thinking- that it was all a lie.

He was just a figment of her imagination.

They had no past. No connection.

He didn't matter. At all.

That was the only thing she knew to be a lie though...


End file.
